A Most Singular Change
by StrangeLittleSwirl
Summary: Hermione finds her life changing more by the minute-including her magic. But with the knowledge of its Pureblood origins comes questions of her background...HGSS MinorCharDeath
1. Default Chapter

****

Title: A Most Singular Change

Author: Rose With Thorns

Pairing: SS/HG, hints at others later

****

Warnings: Minor Character Deaths

****

Rating: PG-13 for now

****

Summary: After a difficult year of taking her Sixth and Seventh year classes at the same time, Hermione finds herself teaching at Hogwarts and discovers she's got a surprising gift. A gift so rare and strange, she automatically fears she may not know who she really is. A gift only seen in old Pureblood lines. When all she knows is untrue and everything she loves is gone, Hermione finds that the only thing she can cling to is her foundling friendships with the Professors McGonnegal and Snape.

_ _

Hogwarts' Student's Project Saves Lives!

It seems there are more people coming out than in at St. Mungo's recently, reports Vanessa McStern. And it is all thanks to the diligent work of Seventh Year student Hermione Granger.

Granger's project was a Transfiguration one: To simply find a better, more reliable power source for Muggle electronics in the Wizarding World. Those without young children will not know that many teens today in Diagon Alley are quite perturbed to find their CD players-little circular things that play music-do not work in heavily magicked areas. Miss Granger, a Gryffindor, has not only solved this problem, but discovered a way to power large pieces of Muggle machinery with Magic.

"I really hope that my project will help those who, until now, have been deemed beyond hope at St. Mungo's. Muggle technology has found multiple cures for diseases and disorders that the Wizarding World are only just_ understanding. On the other hand, perhaps, someday, Muggles will be able to benefit from this advancement in the future."_

After giving a very generous gift to St. Mungo's-the free use of the charm for as long as they need it-a few anonymous benefactors contributed by purchasing Muggle machinery for the new Oncology Floor. Miss Granger was very surprised.

"Really, I had no idea that others would feel as keenly about this as I do." Miss Granger is well known at Hogwarts for her passionate views, and graduated at the top of her class this past June. When asked about her plans, Miss Granger laughs. "I really have so many things I want to accomplish, I'm not quite sure what I'll be doing first."

Miss Granger may be more familiar as the friend and perhaps romantic interest of Harry-

The rest of the parchment was torn off.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at the paper, and, munching angrily on a spoonful of cereal, flipped to the next page.

_Hermione,_

She smiled. Minerva had dropped formalities the second she placed her diploma in her hand, and with only a few days left until she left for home on the train, the two were quick to form a close bond. She always loved her letters-she'd received only a few letters since the beginning of the summer from her former teacher, but each flowed with her beautiful words and handwriting, a few clips from Wizarding papers. She no longer received the paper at home; her parents would see it.

Who simply thought she'd received a letter from Harry. Her father looked up at her.

"How is he, dear?"

Hermione swallowed her bran. "Good." Her stomach didn't even give it's usual flip this time. She was getting better.

"What's going on with him?"

She skimmed the paper. Minerva went on to talk about her plans for the school year and how happy she was to have Hermione helping her the next year.

"What does it say?"

She had to stop herself from glaring at her father. "Harry wants to know if I could stay the summer at his house with his uncle. What do you think?"

Her father settled back in his chair, a hand automatically going to the side of his head, just above his ear. It was his habit, when he had to think about something, to do so. It was something she always had known, ingrained in her memory.

Then the hand reached the earlobe, and she tried very hard to stop from grinning. Her father had decided it was fine.

"I suppose it's fine. Right, Diana?" her mother gave a nod after a moment. "Right then. Write back and tell him you'll be on your way."

She gave her father a quick kiss and took the papers with her. She stopped halfway up the stairs as her father's voice, deep and still gruff from recently waking up, started.

"What, Diana?"

There was a sigh.

"Do you think she's…"

"She's what?"

"Well, she and Harry Potter are so close. Do you think she might be-well, _you_ know…I don't think we'd be able to ex-"

"I trust her. She's _our_ daughter. We raised her. She's so much like us. I trust her as much as I trust you or myself. Now pass the cereal, darling."

That was it. His lightning fast change of topic meant the discussion was over. Hermione made sure to stay to the wall side of the stairs to make sure that they didn't creak as she walked to her room.

The door closed behind her, and she was in her room. Or rather, what had been her room. It hadn't felt like home for two years. The flounced ruffles on the bed skirt and the white and pink pinstriped walls, brimming with books and stuffed animals, were a strange, foreign landscape she barely knew, like something from a story she'd read when she was little and still remembered pieces of.

Hermione let her shoulders sag as she sat on the bed, the papers tightly held in her fist. Suddenly, she was very happy to realize that none of her usual emotional and physical after-effects of a heavy dose of lying were present.

Now, many young adults feel the need to lie to their parents; it gives them the feeling of independency, that they don't need their parent's involvement. It happens everyday in any house one wishes to look where there are people of that age.

However, Deatheater attacks, teaching positions, and Time Turners where altogether something very different.

Hermione, knowing that her parents were slightly more protective and had not yet truly realized she was an adult, had simply forgotten to tell her parents she'd been attacked by Death-eaters at the end of her fifth year, that she forged their handwriting on the permission slip for the Time Turner for the past year, and that she was not returning for Seventh Year.

She knew her parents couldn't be fooled much longer; they were not stupid people. With this in mind, she applied, and then signed, the past summer, for the use of a Time Turner, explaining to Professor Dumbledore that she was worried with the war coming that she wouldn't finish her classes. Now a member of the Order, it was important to have as much information and experience behind her when the time came to fight.

So she'd spent the last year taking her Sixth Year courses, she'd sleep for one hour, and then prepare for her Seventh Year classes. It was a grueling schedule, but because of it she finally realized she needed to take care of herself better. Well, it had taken Madame Pomfrey banning her weekly request for Pepper-Up for her to realize it, but that was besides the point.

The students knew. They didn't know why and came up with their own ideas. Especially since she_ had_ been a shoe in for Head Girl. Hermione had found that to be the hardest part of it all, but then Minerva had asked her if she wanted to come back the following year and teach Transfiguration to the First and Second Years, and suddenly giving up that shining pin and private room wasn't so bad.

Halfway through the year, Hermione had to start using the Time Turner even more to complete her graduation project. Dumbledore had told her to be careful. Minerva gave her mother-like glances. She ignored them and trudged along, working on her project.

It was age-old. More students had done it than not, but Hermione _knew_ she'd solve it. She could feel the arm movements of the charm after looking at only a few books.

Not surprisingly, Minerva had overseen the project. The rapid evolution of the project seemed not as alarming when one was in the middle of it, and it was only afterwards, staring blankly at her notes, that she realized she'd solved a problem equivalent to world hunger.

There were a few pieces of equipment, Muggle in origin, that most people would think already used the technology, like the Wizarding Radio. However, it really was only an amplifying charm tweaked to come out of the small box. She soon found this out.

Hermione even Owled her mother for batteries, and when they arrived, she made her way to the dungeons.

The chemical make-up, she knew, was something that any look in a Muggle book she could look up. However, the make-up of a battery, from a _Wizard's_ point of view, was something different.

Snape proved to be as rude and as greasy as in the classroom at first, but over her time in those cold rooms, he'd seemed to have forgotten she was a Gryffindor-for the most part. Hermione was still reminded from time to time that her 'do first, ask questions later' responses to things were because of her House. However, by the time her need for the use of his lab and his thoughts was over, she sorely missed his quick tongue and intellect.

Something indeed lacking from others.

Hermione turned her attention to the letter, leaving her reverie for another time, and hastily scribbled a note back.

Time Turners were wondrous things. Not only had it allowed her to do twice the work in one year, it also made her, by Ministry's decree, an adult. It was with that satisfying thought that she went to get her wand out of its place in her top drawer to be able to practice some of that legal magic now.

But it was already in her hand.

Frowning at it, she looked around to see if there was anyone in her room. She hadn't picked it up, she knew.

With an aggravated sigh she stopped.

This was happening more and more. She'd wake up and find, after barely thinking about getting her clothes out for the day, that they sat where she usually put them. Or, when she was in the middle of a good book and about to get up for piece of the biscotti her mother always had in the pantry, the container would find its way to her hand.

She'd have to look into it.

Hermione put it on top of the list of things to do once reaching Hogwarts.

Her bag was packed quickly, and she'd already taken all the money she was in possession of and had moved it to an account at Gringotts. With her plans to spend as much time at the school as possible, she'd not wanted to have to Owl home for money. In fact, she'd saved up quite a sum.

Her mother was calling to her now from the foot of the stairs, and she came out into the hallway.

"Hermione, we're leaving for-Oh my!"

She gave her mother a look of alarm. "Something wrong?"

Diana Granger gave her daughter an uncomfortable look. "It's…nothing really."

Hermione moved to the top of the stairs. "It's obviously something."

Her mother leaned on the balustrade. "You just looked-oh I don't know," she sighed and threw a hand through her neat, blonde hair. Her chin fell on her hand and she gave her daughter a smile. "You're growing up, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "_Goodbye_, Mum. I promise I'll still be here when you get back and that I won't have gone through my mid-life crisis."

This made her laugh and she walked out into the entrance hallway, and the sound of the door shutting and gravel bouncing in the driveway let her know they were gone.

Curiosity provoked, Hermione moved to the mirror midway up the stairs. Was she really starting to look her age?

A bit. The cheekbones were becoming more defined; looking directly into the mirror she could see the little shadow. Her face had already started to loose its childhood innocence.

The down side of Time-Turner's, really.

An owl, one of Hogwarts', tapped on the window. It had been a few hours since she'd sent her reply, and she grinned when she realized that Minerva had either not been doing anything, or had dropped whatever she'd been doing to send her letter back.

_Hermione,_

Tomorrow, I_ will personally attend to seeing you to Hogwarts at eleven. We've much to discuss and only the rest of summer to sort things out._

Your Friend,

Minerva

Minerva knew all about the circumstances. She'd marched Hermione into her office the second day of school and charmed the door shut and refused to open it until the girl explained everything to her.

She'd never condoned the situation, but then again she never made any attempt to let her parents know what she was doing.

They'd grown close. Hermione spent so much time in her class and then after for her project that it would have been hard not to.

Now she was to be her assistant teacher, and Minerva had already told her she had her heart set on retiring as soon as she could find someone she trusted wholeheartedly with the fresh-minds of Hogwarts. At the end of the year, Hermione was going to have to face her parents about her already-made decisions for her future.

She spent the rest of the day working on her first day speech to her students. The very idea alone-having her _own_ students-was positively earth-shattering and scary. Above all else, she told herself, she was older than them, smarter than them, and knew more about Transfiguration than them.

Merlin's balls, she'd spent too much time in the dungeons.

Her parents arrived home, chattering away about this patient and that nurse, and Hermione politely listened. Finally, after a rather long story about a patient with braces who told her mother that he'd been eating nothing but what he should have been but then had tell-tale remains in the braces, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Oh, did you find out when Harry wants you over, dear?" her father asked.

Leave it to him to make it sound like she was going over to have tea.

"Tomorrow at eleven. Professor McGonegal will be here to pick me up."

"That soon? Ah well, I was bursting at the seams to get out of the house when I was your age. It's understandable." He laughed. "So what do you do while your there?"

"Read. Study. Do homework. Fight with Ron…"

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "He's dating Luna from school. No worries, Mum."

"Fine. Well, why don't we go see a movie? Perhaps there's something you'd like to watch?"

"I'll go pick the movie. I haven't gotten to do this for years."

Hermione grimaced. The movie downright fowl, and she had half a nerve to simply get up and walk out of it.

Her father had never been one for those exceedingly gory movies, nor had he ever pressed upon the two women to go see them. A glance over at her mother, who seemed to be expression the same desire until recently, made her wish she hadn't. Her father chuckled as a vampire's head was blown off and then when George Clooney's character killed his brother. This definitely wasn't like her father.

"Just let him enjoy it. A little pretending never hurt anyone," her mother whispered, trying to excuse his behavior.

Hermione turned to watch the movie, swallowing down the burning feeling in her throat and chest that made it hard to breathe. She knew very well how to pretend. Her mother needn't tell her.

Minerva came by way of Floo, and made the most graceful exit from the fireplace that her admiration for the woman increased. She took a quick glance around at the room and then smiled at Hermione's parents.

"Doctors Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Hermione's Head of House, Minerva McGonnegal."

She shook their hands and exchanged pleasantries, and soon enough Hermione found herself in the strong goodbye hug of her teary mother and the kiss on the head from her father. With one last look back and 'good-bye', Hermione stepped into the fire and soon felt the tug at her navel as she spiraled towards King Cross Station.

"But can't you Floo to Hogwarts? I thought the Headmaster set up wards so that only-"

Minerva took her spectacles off for a moment and polished them, eying her wearily. "Things are changing and I think we both know it."

Hermione nodded, and suddenly realized that she was the more formal of the two. Minerva had on a pants suit, the sort that older women wore, with flats. Her hair was still up in its usual severe knot. Hermione, on the other hand, had tried to pick something to wear that didn't make the staff think of her as Hermione, the Girl Who Just Graduated, but as Hermione, the New Teacher. The black pencil skirt, white blouse and low pumps, along with her loose bun, made her fit in well with the streaming mid-day traffic of Muggle workers through the train station.

"I'm aware."

They made their way through to the platform, waited until there was a large group of people in front of it, and walked through.

The train was waiting, and Hermione found it surprising to find no sign of students and their families. There were quite a few witches and wizards filing on, no doubt making trips to Hogsmeade. She and Minerva made their way to an open compartment and seated themselves.

"It's always the strangest the first time back on," Minerva said, consolingly. She patted Hermione's hand and gave her a smile. "You seem distracted. Everything alright at home?"

Hermione shrugged. "They just…they're so set in their ideas of this school as being some kind of theme park. It's all a bit, well, aggravating."

Minerva nodded, sitting back and glancing at the girl sagely. "Believe we wave twigs around all day and frolic in costumes, correct? Parents cam be very naive when they don't want to believe something about their children."

"I'd never have taken you for having-"

She nodded. "The way some of them treated you," she trailed off and a look of pain crossed her face. "I felt like a second year being prodded by Lucius' older brother all over again."

This was a bit of a shocking news. Minerva gave her a small smile. "I will let you know now that I'm not the only staff member with secrets." She leaned forward and clasped her hand. "I tell you this now for your safety: Tread wisely. I don't want you having a spat with _any_ of the teachers."

Hermione swallowed a laugh. "Well, I'll try, but I already have a few-"

The door opened and a man with sloppy chin length hair cautiously poked a head in, causing Hermione to beam. "Professor Lupin! How wonderful to see you."

He gave a small smile, and sat down wearily. "Hello, Hermione. What are you doing here?"

Hermione turned to Minerva, who was smiling like the cat who ate the canary. "You never told any of them, did you?"

"As the professor of Transfiguration , the Headmaster allows me to elect anyone I wish to an assistant job as I see fit," she replied archly. "It's absolutely none of their business."

Remus grinned. "I wish I could say this is a pleasant surprise, but it isn't. Minerva was hinting at it all last year in the teacher's room." He shook his head. "Damned woman can't keep a secret."

The ride past quicker than Hermione ever remembered it to. Soon the beautiful landscapes of Scotland were rolling past them. Remus stretched a leg out and gave a yawn.

The train slowed and stopped and they filed out. Hermione felt her stomach give a small flop as she made her way to the entrance gates to Hogwarts.

She'd never used this entrance as a student.

The brick and wrought iron gates loomed over her, more stately than anything else, and through the intricate trellis she could see Hogwarts, a mish-mosh of towers and steeples. A few rooms were lit, and the light hit the lake, and the mountains and Forbidden Forest loomed behind it all.

It was beautiful.

Minerva's hand sought hers in a sisterly gesture, and she turned to see the woman give her a happy look.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Hermione."

__

Author's Notes

The movie- **From Dusk Til Dawn-**I know, an American movie, but it was released in UK theaters in May of 1996, so it would be in theaters, and before any uppity people start to protest that the movie is good and that I'm a stupid person for saying otherwise, I've watched it. I like it, actually, when I'm PMSing. I don't know. I just do.


	2. Chapter One

****

Title: A Most Singular Change

Author: Rose With Thorns

Pairing: SS/HG, hints at others later

****

Warnings: Minor Character Deaths

****

Rating: PG-13 for now

****

Summary: After a difficult year of taking her Sixth and Seventh year classes at the same time, Hermione finds herself teaching at Hogwarts and discovers she's got a surprising gift. A gift so rare and strange, she automatically fears she may not know who she really is. A gift only seen in old Pureblood lines. When all she knows is untrue and everything she loves is gone, Hermione finds that the only thing she can cling to is her foundling friendships with the Professors McGonnegal and Snape.

Only two days as a teacher and already Hermione was running as fast as she could through a thicket so dark she could barely see through.

It had been simple. Bloody simple. Madame Pomfrey was busy stocking the hospital wing, and with most of her papers already copied for the first day of school and her being nervous about teaching, Poppy sent her on a trip to the Kinross House in Tayside, a very short distance to Apparate. An acquaintance who owned the place had harvested a fresh batch of magic hellebore.

Taking a gasping breath she swore to herself she'd never be nice to anyone if she lived through this again.

Kinross House had proved to be a beautiful piece of architecture. It was three stories and made of gray stones, the roof of some material that blinded her when she looked up and the sun hit it. The rectangular home had more fireplaces than she could count with a glance as she was ushered in quickly. The gardens of the home were open to the public, but there were charms around the magical gardens.

Getting the hellebore was boring, and afterward she thought a quick trip to the town's shops would be fine. She was wrong.

Clearly, Hermione had pissed of Draco and Lucius Malfoy a few too many times. For, as she made her way into a side alley to Apparate, Hermione found herself face to face with a group of adjourning Deatheaters. One started to look up and Hermione found herself sprinting the opposite direction. She tried to make herself look calm as she made her way into a small antique shop and into the back.

The old phone booth sat in the back crammed in with tea cups on old sideboards and large tin store signs. She shut herself in and sank to the floor. Hermione knew that she was still shaky at Apparating, and the Apparation to Hogsmeade would no doubt end with her splinching herself. There _had_ to be someone near by. A schoolmate or a teacher she could trust or a-

A teacher…

Hermione had seen a painting of Professor Snape's ancestral home. Unpredictably, it was _not_ in or near the town of Snape. It was Burleigh Castle. She'd never been there, and had never planned on being there, but now was one of those times she didn't really care. With only the painting's rendering of the estate in her mind, she closed her eyes and Apparated.

She'd found herself in the woods nearby, and she raced towards the ruins. Once Hermione was closer, the real Burleigh Castle appeared. If it were any other time, Hermione would stand and gawk at it, but now she simply tried getting in. The large garden in front only deterred a little. Suddenly the fear of meeting one of his parents, almost assuredly a Muggle-hater, flashed through her mind. That was until a strong grip took hold of her arm.

"Who ever you are-" Hermione looked up at the owner of the deep voice, so much like the one he used to deliver a detention.

Snape looked down on her face for a moment, his eyes searching her face for some sign of recognition. Then, with an upward glance at her hair, he glared. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione gave a quick nod. "Please…Deatheaters," she managed to get out.

He dropped the spade-he had been gardening-and, still keeping a strong hold on her forearm, she could barely keep up with his long strides towards the house.

Soon she was inside the cool, dark building and a house-elf popped up at Snape's feet.

"What can Dossie do for Master and" the elf gave Hermione a quick glance. "Master's guest?"

"Not tell anyone she's here, if you want to make me happy," he snapped. Hermione opened her mouth to say something about his keeping of an elf-and there probably were more, with how old the place was-but he stopped her as they started up a set of stairs.

"I should have known that you'd try to stage a protest while you're in the middle of being attacked-foolish child." He swung her into a small room and closed the door behind them. "What are you doing here?"

"Pop-Madame Pomfrey needed hellebore. From Kinross House. I was in the town and-"

"One of them in the Ministry must have planned this for a while," he muttered. "Miss Granger, why are you without a chaperone?"

"Madame Pomfrey said it's a quick trip. It should have been, sir."

He glared at her for a moment. And Hermione found herself uncomfortable under his gaze. "I'll think next time, sir."

"Good, now clean yourself up and-" he grabbed his arm.

Hermione stared in horror as Snape doubled over, clutching blindly at his arm.

"Professor?"

"Go to Dumbledore," he said through gritted teeth. "Tell him I'm," he let out a growl and started out of the room. Hermione ran to the door. "Go!" he hollered, slamming a door behind him.

He didn't have to say it twice. She couldn't care less if she splinched herself.

Hermione now found herself racing to the gates of Hogwarts, and that she was a pretty fast runner now that puberty was long over. She didn't stop. Hermione guessed that even if she died while she was running, she was sure to reach the school on pure adrenaline.

Hagrid tried to greet her as she met him on the path, but she pushed past him and was soon climbing the stairs to Dumbledore's office after practically screaming the password.

"Professor!"

Dumbledore looked up from his desk, alarmed. "What is it, Hermione?"

She swallowed. "Professor Snape- he's been Summoned."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "What happened, Hermione?"

Hermione gave him a strange look. "I was-Deatheaters were in Kinross and came after me."

His glance seemed to suddenly make her realize what a sight she must be. There was a tear in the knee of her jeans and her bun had long since stopped keeping all of her hair back. Now that she wasn't running anywhere, she could feel the small stings of fresh scratches on her face.

"If you want, you can go 'freshen up' before explaining in detail what happened." He gave her an apologetic glance. "I'm afraid you won't be making anymore trips by yourself."

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, much better." He smiled.

How the man ever acted so calmly, even as a member of his staff was off risking his life, was something she'd never understand. He seemed to have not moved in the hour it had taken her to heal herself, clean up, and get dressed.

"Now," he licked a pen and it righted itself over the parchment. Hermione gave it a weary glance. "This, my dear, is not a Quick Notes Quill, have no fear. Now, from the beginning."

She spent a good half hour talking to the Headmaster about what happened. When it was over, she sank back into her chair.

He took the quill off of the paper and gave it a quick read through. "Headmaster," Hermione started.

"Albus," he corrected.

"Albus," that would take some getting used to. "I've noticed something…odd about me recently."

The look he gave her was unreadable. "And what exactly is that?" he said finally.

"Well, I've been doing magic without realizing it. I haven't had much of a chance to read into it because I've been getting ready for the school year."

Albus leaned back in his chair. "It happens, from time to time, when one is under stressful conditions. It's a sign in young children that they are a witch or a wizard. I know, from your papers, that you're first sign was causing things to fall off shelves."

She'd never thought anything of it. Neither had her parents, who told her it had been happening since she was three. It was a coincidence, they told her, that it only happened when she was upset.

What she had thought was her first sign had been the sudden change of a pen into a mouse. Her parents hadn't done anything because they thought it was a coincidence that her pen was gone and a mouse sat in its place. Clearly, her parents were ignorant.

"Is there any books on this in the library?"

"I do believe there is. Most of the library is being looked over, I'm afraid."

It was a common procedure for the books to be cleaned and checked over during summer hols. Madame Pince would check each page and reproduce those ripped out by students. She'd have to wait a few days, or else nag the woman who was already less than fond of the girl.

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she decided to wait for Albus to go on with the conversation, since he would.

"Severus will be alright. Madame Pomfrey will patch him up like she always does."

Hermione nodded. "If there's anything … I mean, no doubt I probably won't be able to…"

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Hermione. I will call for you if anything is needed. I need to speak with Minerva about your classroom and office, and as she won't be here until later, well, just settle in for now."

"Alright, then. Good afternoon, Albus."

Hermione spent the next few hours putting things away, furiously throwing herself into putting her books into their places, separating the ones she might use for her classes and the reference ones. If had never bothered her, the past two years, knowing that Severus Snape was out, risking his life for the Order. Of course, it wasn't as dashing as it sounded when she thought about it, but still, here she was, the worst of her worries being a misplaced book, and he was probably-

"What do you think of the rooms?"

Hermione looked up from her place on the floor to the Transfiguration teacher with a large stack of parchments. She dusted her legs off.

"They're lovely. Close enough to the library, too. Thank you very much."

"Naturally, we'll make sure your office isn't connected to your rooms, for safety's sake. And you're classroom should be near it…Oh, I should tell you, Harry's staying the summer."

"That's wonderful!" Hermione nudged Crookshanks out of her way with her foot. He'd stayed at the school after she'd left at the end of last term, and had now believed himself to own the hallways and have authority. In fact, the cat was starting to reminding her of-

"How badly was he hurt?"

She'd seen him last time. At the Order's last meeting. Pomfrey had rushed him off to the makeshift infirmary she'd set up at Grimmauld Place. Sirius had left the old house to the Order and they were trying to use it to its fullest. And then he'd just walked back in to the meeting and fought with her for a good twenty-five minutes about abstracting a sixth year from his family, since, no doubt he'd be joining the Death-eaters during the summer.

"He's being taken care of. We'll have the meeting later tonight at Grimmauld. She played with the coin in her hand. The weight and the shape were familiar.

As it should have been. Hermione charmed the coins for the Order as she had for Dumbledore's Army, now defunct. The courage she'd hoped would develop the last year hadn't, nor had she time to try to make it so.

"I started on my lesson outline…for you to check over," she nervously started to pat her hair down. Minerva had always been one of her idols; always those same old-fashioned robes, glass, and bun- set shoulders and poise. Hermione always felt mangy around her. Now, in a button down shirt with the sleeves pushed up and a worn pair of jeans, Hermione didn't feel any different.

"I've got something I want to show you." She turned and Hermione could only follow.

They were passing through the entrance to the main hall now; into the teachers' corridor and into the more worn hallway for students. Hermione tried not to let her grin show as they walked up the steps and then they were near the stairs to the dungeon. She frowned.

"Why am I?"

Minerva did not turn to descend; rather she continued past the stairs to classroom at the end of the hallway.

Her classroom.

Bright, there were plenty of windows and shelves all along the wall the entrance was on. As she entered the center of the room, she could see the office past it. Her own office.

"I thought it suited you. And Peeves tends to stay away from here. The Bloody Baron is seen around here from time to time, but they'll get used to a class being held in here."

"Minerva, it's gorgeous! I can-I mean, oh…" Hermione leaned against the desk and faced the rows of tables, dusty from not being used. She could already picture the children, mouths wide with wonder as that final piece 'clicked'…

Bill shot through the door to the kitchen, causing Hermione to take a small step back. Mr. Weasley went in, also, and at the same time, Snape came down the stairs. His usual icy coolness was effected by his slightly halted walk.

He'd been hurt badly.

Hermione hurried through the door and seated herself next to Tonks.

"How's it-" the blue haired girl started, but Hestia Jones gestured to Dumbledore.

The meetings kept getting more and more depressing, and there were already signs otherwise of the mounting tension in the Wizarding world. This one was no different. Hermione listened to a number of possible Death-eater pledges-most students she'd been in class with.

After all was said and done, they milled up to the parlor and Mrs. Weasley brought in the food. For a group of people who had such a grave responsibility, most of them seemed to have a very good appetite after meetings.

Hermione didn't. She walked over to the window to watch some Muggle construction going on across the way. A dark figure moved into the corner of her peripheral vision.

"She pledged." He said quietly. Hermione couldn't help but snort. "And killed Miss Solisky as her Initiation."

She and Snape were not close; no where near it. But hours together in the potions laboratory had taught them that they were very much alike as far as thinking went. He waited for her to collect her thoughts.

"Hyacinth," she replied.

"What?"

"She always loved them. Perfume. Wore a brooch of it enchanted. I helped her find a book for Arithmancy once."

"It's not making me feel worse, so you can stop."

Hermione turned towards him. Others in the room were involved in their own conversations, so no one saw their strange transaction. "I'm not."

"Are you still interested in that project you wished to start? Albus told me about your wish to use the extra lab."

"If you're not currently in the middle of using it for an experiment, I was going to ask you if I could utilize the room."

He watched the crane with a slight bit of interest, but she knew better. "What exactly _will_ you be doing? If you had the room."

Hermione chewed her lip. "Albus okayed my plans for a Muggle-Wizard project. It involves Muggle artillery; and well, I'll be working with some potions and things."

"What_ sort_ of artillery?"

"Well, guns, mostly. At first, at the very least," she said brightly. "My father had a rather nice model I'll probably use. A Glock."

"I see."

That could be a yes or no, she knew, so she waited. In her dealings with Snape and other Purebloods, it was always the same; careful thought went into each word, every movement calculated.

"The room will be prepared in two days."

Hermione turned in surprise. "Thank you very much."

"_However_." As if she didn't know there were strings. "I will oversee your experiments. Muggle-Wizarding experiments are known to go horribly wrong. No doubt a lesser trained witch like yourself needs supervision."

She'd simply ignore the insult.

"Thank you, very much, Professor."

Madame Pinch gave Hermione a long, hard look as Hermione clutched the requested book to her chest.

"That's from the Restricted Section, you know," the librarian said stiffly. Hermione had picked it up as soon as she'd turned her back. "It'll need to be back before school starts."

"Madame Pince, I promise to return it as soon I finish preparing for my lessons."

What was it that Minerva had said about not making enemies? So she hadn't really listened.

She left quickly, the staunch woman's dagger-glare on her back as unsettling as it had been in the past six years. Honestly, a few books not returned on time and one would think she was leaving dung bombs in the library (a staggering blow last year when a fan of the Weasley twins decided to do so).

In reality, the book was for her _own_ personal use. The subject of wandless magic was bothering her more, especially since each day passing was one day less to get it under control. The last thing she wanted was some sort of chaos created because of it. The book was the first in a series she'd probably need to be satisfied, but taking them all at one blow would raise suspicions.

It did not take her long to settle into her seat in front of her fire. Her rooms were one the western side of the building, and they stayed cool, not only because of that but also because of the schools enchantment. The fire gave that extra bit of warmth she found inviting.

Crookshanks was batting at the enchanted ball of string she'd just charmed, and a good cup of tea sat within her reach. She was now ready to begin.

The book was in French, and if she was Harry, she'd have given up or asked herself for help. However, the advantages of having a French mother were making themselves evident; she'd grown up asking for not only her 'mother' but her '_mè re'_.

With her free hand, she copied down what she needed to know.

The minute hand of her watch had nearly made its way around the face for a third time when she set down her book, her hand cramped and covered with graphite. Hermione still had affections for Muggle pencils; they never required dipping and were simply less likely to break than ink bottles.

The results of the reading were depressing. There was never a Muggle-born or non Pureblood to be able to perform wandless magic, and now Hermione was realizing that any of the other books she'd possibly taken out at a later date would not help her more than the one she had now. Secretive, that's what they were.

A glance at her doorway took her by surprise; the novelty of being able to _see_ enchantments was still strange. They were like glittering threads, intertwining and dancing around the door knob.

The other book, open since yesterday to the potion, lay on the floor underneath her chair, out of stumbling distance, and now it called to her.

It wouldn't _hurt_ to try out the experiment…would it?

She'd just set up a cauldron in her office. Snape wouldn't know (the key to the storage room had been dropped, unceremoniously, at her door earlier while reading).

But her bed looked so _tempting_…

__

Author's Notes:,

Kinross

The town: www.kinross.cc/index.htm

_I found it while looking for Snape's estate. I don't know if there's really an antique shop directly in the village where they have shops, or if they have one of those old phone booths in it. Or if there's an alley with Lucius and the Deatheaters (oh, that should be a band!) there, either._

Kinross Gardens and Kinross House: 

_Found this through a link on the site above. The house really _isn't_ open to the public. It's owned by the Montgomery family. I'm not saying that they practice witchcraft, are witches and wizards, or have anything to do with this fic. I simply borrowed their house._

Burleigh Castle

I found it on #burleigh _initially, and then found pictures of it at __It's ruins, but who says that's what it really is? Well, that was my original thought, and then I found pictures someone took of it inside, but give me a break. I tried._


End file.
